Heather Brager is a critically acclaimed juggler of calamity, an accomplished procrastinator, and shuffler of idioms. Her poetry and drawings can be found in various digital and print journals around the globe, and on the web. She currently resides in New England and prefers the precipice of where the Atlantic meets the sand to the official looking office where she spends most of her time.

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

“I want to be 100 years old”and my reply is “someday you may”my voice reminding my mindthat he is only six years oldand I was six once, barefootpicking wild strawberriesalong the ditch, swatting mosquitoeswith pink fingertips

and he nods in understandingwhile I explain that people die every dayaccidents, falls and disease,their bodies weakened by old agehe pauses and shrugs, reminding methat he is six years oldfor but a brief moment

he is young and I will never be again,so I wait for him to ask the inevitable